


Coffee at Pemberley's

by boringmuse



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cute, F/M, Romance, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boringmuse/pseuds/boringmuse
Summary: In which Mr. Darcy owns a coffee shop.





	1. Chapter 1

It was frighteningly cold that morning.

Jane Bennet, wrapped in various woolen garments, sighed in exasperation as she stood waiting for Lydia to meet her. The two had come downtown to buy Christmas gifts for the Lucases, but the flighty girl had gotten whisked away by some sort of distraction. _Most definitely a boy,_ Jane thought disapprovingly. _I should have come with Lizzie instead._ She was about to send another text to her missing sister when an incoming message popped up on the screen:

'Jaaane. Sorry, but you'll be doing the rest of the shopping on your own. Lydia has found herself a potential beau! Wish me luck x'.

She nodded— it was just as she'd suspected. Seeing as the hour was still relatively early and she was beyond frustrated, Jane decided to take a break to warm up. Her eyes landed upon a little brick coffee shop nestled between two boutiques; its facade was attractive and neatly-kept, and she imagined there had been flowers growing around the perimeter before winter had arrived. _Pemberley's_ , read the logo.

A pleasant warmth overtook her once she slipped in, doorbell tinkling lightly. There was a small crowd of people occupying the shop, their conversations blurring into a soft murmur, and Jane took the chance to observe her surroundings. The walls were strung with multiple paintings and illustrations, many of them rich in detail; the light fixtures cast the room in an inviting glow; and, perhaps most interestingly, a massive bookshelf dominated the farthest wall. Even the aroma was calming, a lovely mixture of cinnamon and cacao. _Lizzie would like this place,_ she mused.

__

"Are you looking for something?" asked a voice, startling Jane from her thoughts. A rather haughty-looking man clutching a novel stood before her.

"Oh, I'm here for a drink," she answered gently. "Sorry, I was just admiring the décor."

"Bingley will take your order," the man replied, pointing at the counter, promptly disappearing into some room.

The barista was turned around, engaged in brewing a concoction. He worked animatedly, fingers deftly operating the tools, all the while humming to himself. "Here you go, ma'am," he winked, handing the finished product to a girl waiting patiently nearby.

She blushed, quietly accepting the coffee and returning to her seat. Evidently Bingley had not noticed his new customer yet, as he was now concerned with the label on his jacket, picking at something invisible. Jane stepped a bit closer. "Um, excuse me?"

His head suddenly snapped up, eyes widening upon taking in Jane's countenance. "Oh, I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he mumbled, trying to laugh.

"No worries," she assured him.

The barista's hair was a bright shock of red, a few locks falling in curls across his forehead. He wore a lopsided smile, a feature which Jane thought endearing, and his light eyes flitted nervously about. "What will you be having today?"

"Er, just a hot chocolate for me, thanks."

He stared at her blankly. A few moments later, "Sorry, what?"

"A hot chocolate, please," she giggled.

"Right, sorry about that," he grimaced. "And could I get a name?"

"It's— Jane. I'm Jane."

He went to work, exhaling once she left his field of vision. Meanwhile, the mysterious, haughty-looking man had reappeared, walking over to the counter with a brisk pace. "Bingley, you did _not_ tell me your sister was going to be here today!" His stoic mask revealed an irritated expression.

"And I thought I told you to stop calling me by my last name, 'Darcy,'" Charles groaned as he heated the milk.

"I don't recall such a request," he retorted.

"Asshole."

"You're calling _me_ an asshole? Aren't you the guy who can't commit to a woman?"

"There are simply too many lovely creatures out there, each of them a marvel in their own way."

"Nice verse, Casanova."

The barista threw a sudden glance at Jane, who had peeled off her outerwear and was idly toying with her cell. "Hey, William, do you know that lady?"

Darcy looked over. "No. Do you fancy her? She is quite pretty, I must say."

"I want to talk to her; gah, why did you have to put me on today's shift?"

Bingley's friend rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Here, you can go. I'll take your place." He looked around discreetly, whispering, "It's better than talking to Caroline, anyways."

Charles threw his arms around Darcy. "Oh, thank you, pal! I always knew you had some good somewhere in that heart of yours."

"Don't let me regret this. Remember, I can fire you whenever I want to," he warned, though amusement danced in his eyes.

"Who cares? I'm already rich," Bingley laughed.

"Even more a reason for you to go."

The redhead ignored his biting comments and moved towards Jane's table, tenatively holding out the mug. "Hot chocolate for you, Miss?"

She met his eyes and smiled shyly, causing a slight blush to pass over his face. "Thank you."

He hesitated. "Do you mind if I sit here for a bit? That guy's taking my place for a little while, so I figured I'd make some conversation, unless— unless that bothers you, of course. I'd hate for you to pretend to enjoy my company."

Jane looked surprised for a moment, fumbling momentarily with her words, but she managed to regain her previous affectation. "I suppose a little conversation wouldn't hurt."

Bingley brushed a drop of sweat from his forehead and sat beside the radiant young lady. He had never felt so uncomfortable before in anybody's presence, but here he was, perspiring while stumbling over thoughts of what to say. "I couldn't help noticing your frown. How– I mean, what is the reason for it? Hopefully the cause is not too terrible."

"Oh, was it really that obvious?" Her cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. It was something minor, really. My youngest sister can be difficult at times."

"I completely understand." He stopped, eyes flicking to where his friend stood observing them, and raised his volume as he spoke the next phrase. "Having William as a friend is equally as taxing."

Darcy glowered, and Jane, seeing all this unfold, let out a tinkly little laugh. "You two sure seem like close friends to me."

Bingley nodded absentmindedly, trying to divert his focus from the adorable look on Jane's face, and on the pretty sound she'd created merely from laughing. "It's a love-hate relationship, I suppose. He thinks I'm an idiot; I think he's too serious."

"Tell me, how did you meet? My curiosity is piqued." She suddenly considered how demanding she'd appeared and corrected herself bashfully. "Oh, but only if you'd like to. It's not really my business."

"Well, it's a rather long story..."

Jane and Charles became immersed in what seemed like a never-ending conversation, the both of them smiling and laughing and exchanging awkward glances tinged rose. Darcy, who occasionally took orders, claimed he couldn't stand the sight of them––'bumbling like fools in love,' he thought. His painstaking interest in watching them, however, told a different story, and he couldn't help from grinning every so often. Of course, once Caroline came in to help, all of his enjoyment vanished.

* * *

Nearly three hours had passed before the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop was interrupted by rushed footsteps and a new visitor. The brunette lady who'd just walked in immediately spotted her sister, who was seemingly absorbed in a redhead's attentions. "Jane, where on Earth have you been?"

"Oh, Lizzy!" Jane exclaimed, beaming. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, considering you haven't responded to any of the texts I sent within the last two hours," Elizabeth replied sarcastically.

"I'm so sorry, Lizzy, you know I'd never purposely ignore your messages. I— I just got so carried away," she tried to explain, peeking at Bingley, who returned her look with barely restrained adoration.

"I know, Jane," she sighed. "We were just worried, since Lydia came home alone. Thankfully that haughty-looking guy told me you were one of his customers when I asked."

"William," Jane chuckled, looking over at him; he was talking to Caroline with annoyance clear on his face. Fortunately, the girl was oblivious.

"Pleasant fellow, really," Elizabeth joked. "When I walked up to him, the first thing he said was, 'what do you want?'"

"That's Darcy for you," Bingley laughed. He turned his face to Jane's sister. "I'm Charles Bingley; it's nice to meet you!"

"Pleasure," she smiled, shaking his outstretched hand. "Now, if you don't mind, my sister and I will be taking our leave."

Jane slowly stood up, gathering her things and sneaking looks at Bingley, who appeared slightly distraught. _Should I request his number?_ she asked herself, but, upon remembering the easy way he had flirted with the customer before her, replaced the silly thought with one she deemed more logical. _I doubt he'll even remember me after today._

The sisters made their way to the exit, whereupon Jane and Charles said their goodbyes. "Jane, I truly enjoyed our chat. Thank you for making my morning less boring," he grinned.

"It was nothing," she said cautiously, giving a brief nod and turning to head out once again into the cold. Her heart sank. They were a little ways past the shop until Bingley suddenly slammed open the door— most likely breaking the bell— and ran over to his newfound acquaintance.

"Wait, Jane!"

She turned around.

He was panting, trying to catch his breath. "Jane, please— If you don't mind..." he trailed off, picking his words carefully. "Would it be alright with you if we— if we exchanged numbers?"

Despite her intentions to remain unmoved, she couldn't stop the tiny flutter in her chest. Jane consulted her younger sister and best friend, eagerly watching her face; seeing that Lizzy gave an encouraging nod, Jane agreed to Bingley's request.

"Fantastic!" he breathed, clearly relieved.

"It turned out to be a nice day after all," Jane commented gently. When Bingley handed her phone back, his touch lingered a little longer than it should have against her palm, causing him to immediately bounce backwards.

"Well, then, I'll text you!"

"Of course," she murmured back. Once they had gotten on the train, Jane turned to her sister. "Oh, Lizzy, I think Charles and I have a potentially wonderful friendship ahead of us! He likes stars and dancing and comedy films, just like I do!"

"Friendship, you say?" was all Elizabeth managed in reply.

* * *

"So, you absolute beast of flirtation. How did it go with that lady?" Darcy asked once his friend had returned.

Bingley grasped both of his shoulders. "My dear friend, I think I'm in love!"

"Ridiculous," Darcy scoffed. "You only just met her."

"She's so kind and generous! You know, she spends most of her free time volunteering at the animal shelter. Isn't that sweet?"

"Hm."

"You have to believe me, Will, I've never met someone like her." Bingley's eyes certainly were alight with a strange glow.

"Well, I suppose you could always invite her and her sister for coffee sometime."

"That's a great idea!" He began hopping comically around the room, but quickly paused, a furrow in his brow. "Wait, why her sister?"

Darcy regarded his friend with a frown. "I never mentioned a sister."


	2. Chapter 2

The Bennet household was, for once, calm. It was one of those rare occasions where Lydia, Kitty, and their insufferable mother disappeared temporarily to do the very important tasks of accosting strangers for flirtation and ambling aimlessly around the mall in their gaudy 'avant-garde' fashions. The only sensible children of the family had stayed home— though Jane and Elizabeth would be moving out within the following year— and were left to relish the sweet few hours of peace they had been blessed with.

"I can't imagine what sort of text is keeping you so occupied," Elizabeth smirked.

She sat across from the eldest sister, whose blonde hair was pinned neatly into a bun at the top of her head. Both of them had settled into their respective spots on the plush parlor couches, knit blankets thrown across their bodies to keep from the cold. "He's so silly," Jane chuckled. "One minute he's talking about his passion for eating and the next he's complaining about William."

Elizabeth flipped a page in her novel. "If he's talking about _that_ William— the Mr. Darcy of _Pemberley's—_  I guess we'd make good friends as well."

"Lizzy, you're too susceptible to grudges."

"No, Jane, you pure-hearted angel, it's just that I refuse to associate with someone who has such an absence of warmth!"

Jane sighed and looked up from her phone. "Well, I, for one, think you should let it go." She said this in a matter-of-fact tone that elicited a giggle from Elizabeth.

"And you would no sooner stop seeing the good within everybody you meet."

Their conversation was broken by Mary, who entered the room holding the house phone in the air. "Elizabeth, it's Charlotte."

"Hey, Lottie, what's up?" she asked, setting down her book. Mary slunk back to her bedchamber.

"Lizzy! I was just wondering if you'd like to go for some coffee today. I know a really good place that recently opened up and I think you might like it." She paused, continuing in a whisper, "I also have stuff I need to talk to you about."

"Sure, why not?" She rummaged through her drawers, pulling out a file folder. "I'll have to work on my article while we're there though; I've been putting it off for too long."

"That sounds good. I'll be outside of your place in about ten minutes."

"Alright, see you!"

Elizabeth slipped into a pair of worn jeans and her favorite houndstooth coat, tying her hair into a simple ponytail. "Where are you going?" Jane asked as her sister came down to grab her purse.

"Charlotte says she needs to talk, so we're going to some café."

"Is everything alright?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I suppose I'll find out."

Jane's eyes were pools of concern. "Well, if anything's the matter, let her know that she's always welcome here."

* * *

"My _God_. You're kidding me, right?" Elizabeth asked bluntly when she realized Charlotte had brought her to the same exact coffee shop she had visited only last week.

"What? Have you been here before?"

"Sorry, Lottie, I didn't mean to say that," she apologized. "I was here on this same day last week, which is why I was surprised."

"Oh, I see. They have good stuff, don't they?"

"I didn't actually try anything. Do you have any recommendations?"

They stepped inside the building, wiping their shoes on the doormat. "Well," Charlotte began, leading the both of them to a table on the farthest side of the room. "I must say they have a delightful variety of tisanes. Peppermint's in season, obviously. Oh, and their pastries are lovely as well."

Elizabeth nodded and smiled as they went to stand in line, but secretly she was scouring the room for any sight of the disgraceful owner; thankfully, he did not seem to be present. However, once she met the woman behind the cash register, she swore it was she who deserved the true title of the word 'disgraceful.'

Jane had mentioned her in passing— Caroline Bingley, Charles's sister. While they both shared the same vibrant hair and olive eyes, they radiated such opposing auras that, had it not been for their physical similarities, recognizing them as siblings would prove an impossible task. "What would you like, dear?" she asked in a saccharine— though clearly artificial— voice.

"I'll be having a small peppermint tea, please," Elizabeth smiled politely.

"Anything else?"

"No thank you."

The barista got to work, leaving Charlotte and her friend to wait patiently nearby. Lizzy's eye suddenly caught notice of the huge bookshelf; immediately she began to scan the titles. Among them, of course, were the classics, which she was especially fond of, but there were also several contemporary novels that she had been dying to get her hands on. About to ask a customer if he knew anything about the shop's system, her speech was cut short by a loud scream.

Caroline's top was soaked in coffee, and her face had turned just about as red as her hair. "You insolent fool!" she growled at the poor barista. "Look what you've done!"

"Caroline, you literally pushed me..."

"Serves you right for moving like a slug. We're running on a _schedule_ , Jeremiah!"

"Then why aren't you helping me out?" he asked indignantly, cheeks warming as well.

She let out an agonized huff, ready to issue another blow, when Darcy suddenly materialized before them. "What is going on here?"

Caroline looked as though some specter had possessed her. "Will!" She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and tried to force a smile. "I didn't know you were still here."

"That's unfortunate, seeing as you've been caught embarrassing yourself and your co-worker over what was obviously an accident."

"I'm sorry, William, but _he—_ "

"Just stop forging excuses. I want the both of you to behave, otherwise you won't be welcome here anymore," he spoke with a tone of calm authority.

The both of them nodded, Caroline avoiding Darcy's gaze. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It's alright. But please, act with propriety in the future."

The coffee shop returned to its earlier state, customers turning their heads from the commotion and settling back into their banter. Elizabeth and Charlotte finally got their drinks and proceeded to their seats. "Well, that was quite the diversion!"

"Yes," Elizabeth assented. "I suppose that was today's great excitement." She glanced at Darcy, surprised at the quick, respectful way he had dealed with the altercation. _And here I was thinking they would have made a perfect couple._ "Anyways, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Lizzie, I am just going to put it bluntly. I don't want to stay in Hertfordshire anymore."

"How come?" The news was shocking to her. She'd always thought her friend lived a comfortable life in the county.

"I'm twenty-seven years old. That's one too many years I've spent in this place where nothing happens, Lizzie. I want to go to London, to get my master's. I need to see what else this world has to offer."

"Everyone knows how intelligent you are, Charlotte, so I have no doubt about your achieving that goal. But what about your parents?"

"My parents think I'm a nuisance! And rightfully so. I haven't done anything until now except mope about my misfortunes. They should be happy to see me go."

"How can you say that?" Elizabeth cried. "You're their daughter!"

"Not all families are happy," she smiled bitterly. "I reckon they'll be getting a divorce soon."

Lizzie placed her friend's hand in her own, eyes gleaming with honesty. "Lottie, we've known each other for a long time. I just want you to make the right decision— the one that's best for yourself and for those you care about most. And if I happen to be one of those people you care about— well, I support you fully and I wish you the best of luck."

Charlotte's smile softened, and she gripped Elizabeth's hand. "You're seven years younger than me, but still light ages wiser."

"Hey, I learn from the best," she grinned, nudging her friend. "Anyways, it looks like our drinks are going tepid, so do you mind if we postpone this discussion for a few minutes?"

"Gladly," she nodded. "To be truthful, I don't think this is the right place for such a serious talk after all."

A comfortable silence stretched between them as they sipped on their beverages. Elizabeth's pencil scratched lightly against the paper as she worked on her article while Charlotte doodled aimlessly on a napkin. The sun had slipped a bit in the sky, painting its domicile a dreamy pink hue, while the last of the golden rays seeped in through the shop's windows. Little by little people left the building, considering it was getting late, but Lizzy felt at peace there, lost in her own thoughts and musings. She noticed Darcy sitting at the opposite end of the room, engrossed in a book, and remembered her question. She excused herself and walked over to inquire.

Upon her nearing, Darcy eyed her quizzically, recognition flashing through him. "What is it?"

"You could be a bit more polite," Elizabeth commented. "I initially did not think that was possible for you until I saw how you handled the earlier fracas."

"It was not my intention to be rude," he confessed. "It's just that I don't really have a penchant for socialization. Please keep that in mind the next time you feel the burning urge to go off on me like you did last week."

Elizabeth colored at the memory and removed the edge from her voice. "I was desperately looking for my sister; it only makes sense that I'd get irrationally pissed at someone who shows me unkindness in that state."

He changed the subject, taking on a friendlier tone. "So, what is it that you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh, yes. I was wondering about that bookshelf behind the counter— we're allowed to purchase the books, right? I didn't see any prices, but I assumed they were there for that reason."

"Yes, sorry. I asked Bingley to take charge of that but I suppose I forgot how unreliable he is. Was there any book in particular you were looking at?"

"Actually, there were a few."

She pulled out the titles she'd been intrigued by, and Darcy's sharp eyes softened upon seeing them. "These are all great reads. Margaret Atwood, especially, I'm fond of."

"To be honest, I've only read _The Blind Assassin_ and _Alias Grace._ I've heard many good things about _The Handmaid's Tale_ , but have never really explored the dystopia genre."

"Oh, that needs to be cured soon," he murmured. "There are plenty of fantastic dystopias I could recommend you, and _The Handmaid's Tale_ is without a doubt among them."

"And I am certain I also know some titles that can cure _your_ unique ailment. Self-help books are all the rage right now."

He ignored the snarky response, already aware with what 'ailment' he would be diagnosed. "I see you're an avid reader, Ms. Bennet?"

A nod. "My family owns a local bookshop. Well, more my dad and I, really. Aside from him and Mary, the other members of my family do not truly care to indulge in a good novel."

"A bookshop?" asked Darcy, lips twitching upwards.

"Yes, but it's not so impressive. It's rather small and we mainly supply secondhand classic literature."

"It may not be to my expectations, but I suppose I could stop by someday and evaluate the selection."

She was about to say something, but Charlotte, who'd been busy with her phone, informed her it was getting late. "We should head back, Lizzie." Sure enough, the sky was deepening by the minute, a sign they'd extended their stay for far too long.

"I suppose I'll have come and get these another time," Elizabeth smiled, putting back the volumes.

"Yes, I suppose so," Darcy nodded rigidly.

She turned to leave, pulling on the sleeves of her coat. "Goodbye, then!" Lizzy waved as she exited arm-in-arm with her companion.

"Bye," he said inaudibly, gazing with a curious expression as her form shrank and eventually melded with the darkness. _A local bookshop..._


	3. Chapter 3

Since it was nearing closer to Christmas, the streets were packed with people. Elizabeth was wound behind the checkout counter of _Bennet Books_ , hastily ringing up purchases. Never before had she seen it so busy. Of course, she'd asked for help from her siblings, but it turned out all of them were somehow busy with prior engagements. It didn't help that her father was sick, either.

"Hey, hurry up!" yelled a woman from the back of the line, not seeming to realize that Elizabeth was the only person working. She simply rolled her eyes and returned to her job.

"Busy today, isn't it?" asked a low voice.

She looked up, seeing before her a customer with an apologetic look on his face. He was quite handsome, owning a pleasant visage and athletic build. Elizabeth felt the faintest blush capture her features, but quickly shook it off. "Definitely," she smiled, moving to bag his books.

His eyebrows were knit together in concern. "Why isn't there anyone else helping out?"

"I'm the only one with time," she explained, handing him his purchase and folding her hands beneath her chin. "But hey, at least we're making money."

"I mean, the prices here certainly are good," he shrugged. "Though I must admit, I'm not here for myself today. These are gifts for my niece."

"How sweet," she grinned. "I'm sure she'll love them."

The same woman from before spoke up, eyes burning furiously. "Quit holding the line up, you tossers!"

"She's quite the creature," the man laughed, meeting Lizzy's irate gaze.

"Truly."

He looked around the store for a brief moment. "Hey, are you hiring by any chance?"

An eyebrow flicked upwards. "I'd have to check with my dad, but I'm sure it wouldn’t be a problem if you wanted to work here."

"Well, just e-mail me later," he said, scrawling his contact information on a slip of paper. "I've been looking for a part-time job and this place seems pretty nice. Anyways, it looks like you could use the help."

"Will do, Mr. Wickham." She tucked the sheet into her pocket and stuck her thumb up.

"Until next time!" he exclaimed, giving her a charming grin before exiting the shop. Elizabeth smiled and watched as he retreated, then quickly snapped up lest the beast admonish her again.

* * *

Outside, it had started flurrying. Jane, who'd been sent to run errands as per Mrs. Bennet's request, frowned and glanced at the list. She still had to buy some groceries and pick up one of her mother's dresses from the dry cleaners. "Just my luck," she sighed, watching the snow begin to powder the rooftops.

Jane turned on her heel in the direction of the supermarket. A sudden wave of nostalgia hit her as she traversed the path; she and Lizzie often had raced here when they were children, seeing who could get to the pâtisserie first. Their parents found it an amusing thing, but the sisters became ruthless on those occasions, often sending each other tumbling. Looking back on it, she realized how dangerous those races were.

Absorbed by these recollections, she let out a small yelp when she bumped into someone's hard back. "I'm so sorry—" she began, but was cut off by an enthusiastic exclamation.

"Jane! What a surprise," Bingley beamed; his cheeks were rosy from the cold.

"Hello, Charles," she smiled timidly. "What are you up to?"

"Just about to grab some lunch. William very grudgingly has allowed me a small break," he said.

"Ah, I see," she nodded.

Bingley suddenly noticed that she was shivering. "Would you like to come with me? If— if you're hungry, that is."

"Sure!" she said brightly, but grimaced upon remembering her duties. "But, I... have errands to run. Sorry."

"Oh, come on. It's just for a bit," he pleaded. "I'll help you with your errands afterwards; screw Will."

"Hey, don't be rude!"

He laughed. "Don't worry, he knows I love him." Averting his eyes, "So, do you think you could join me?"

She smiled. "As long as we don't stay for too long, like last time."

Bingley's expression was a delighted one.

The café they stepped into was surprisingly quiet, creating an intimate setting. "Welcome, kiddos," greeted a portly, middle-aged man who'd been busy clearing one of the tables.

The two of them nodded politely and settled into a small booth. The man brought them a glass of water each. "How have you been?" Bingley asked his companion after taking a sip.

"Good, I suppose," Jane answered. She toyed with the buttons of her coat. "What about you?"

"Um, I've been good too. Just, you know, helping around the coffee shop and stuff."

"Do you like it? Your job."

"Only when it's not too busy," he chuckled. "But otherwise, it's quite enjoyable. I get to snack on pastries, which is great."

"Yes, that's definitely a plus," she smiled. "I know I sound crazy, but I think coffee shops are just so..." she paused, trying to find the right word.

"So what?"

" _Romantic_. Being able to wind down, drink some coffee or tea or whatnot, and reflect upon the day while the people around you are having their own conversations..." Trailing off, a dreamy look possessed her. "It's so nice."

"Wow. I've never heard it described like that," Bingley said, resting his head against his palm.

"Sorry, I'm sure that was weird!"

"No, don't worry; I know what you mean."

They looked at each other and let out a combined, nervous laughter. "So," Jane cleared her throat. "What was that movie you were—"

The waitress had come to take their order. She was a tall, curvy blonde, dark lashes curled against perfectly penciled-in brows. "Hi guys, my name's Rosie and I'll be your server today. Do you already know what you're ordering or will you need another minute with the menu?"

"I think we'll need a minute," Bingley said. Rosie nodded and disappeared.

"She was pretty," Jane commented, feeling self-conscious. She rarely used cosmetics unless she was going to a party, and even then Kitty applied them for her. She didn't have the skill other girls seemed to triumph in.

"So are—" Charles sighed uncomfortably and rubbed his temples. "I guess she was. What was it you were asking me?"

"Right, that movie you were texting me about yesterday. Did you end up enjoying it?"  
  
He perked up. "Ah, yes. _Titanic_ was great. You've got to appreciate DiCaprio's acting chops."

"You only _just_ watched _Titanic_?"

The food arrived soon, and afterwards the bill. "Wait," Jane said. "She only brought—"

"Don't worry about it," Bingley smiled mischievously.

"You didn't have to," she said, turning red. "It was my food."

"Yes, but I was the one who invited you." After the waitress returned with his card, he stood up and tied on his scarf. "Let's go. We have errands to run, don't we?"

* * *

"Charles, stop it!" Jane cried.

The redhead was carelessly flying down one of the supermarket's vacant aisles by using his foot as a pedal for the cart. "Come on, Jane, this is fun!" He was ecstatic, even throwing his head back.

"You're going to kill yourself," she said, frantically tapping her foot against the tile.

He slowed down once he saw the real concern etched onto her features. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to scare you," he murmured, placing his hand on her shoulder and swiftly dropping it as she recoiled.

"It's okay," she sighed. They began towards the checkout line when an all-too-familiar voice startled them.

"Janey? Is that you?" Lydia bounded up to them with a sly look on her face.

"Charles, meet my little sister, Lydia," she said cautiously. "Lydia, meet Charles.

The younger girl gasped, cocking her head to the side. "My, my, sister, is this your first-ever _boyfriend_?"

Jane shook her head profusely, arms waving about in all directions. "No, Lydia, he's just a friend!" She glanced at Bingley, who was somewhat pink.

"Wow, you're even grocery shopping together. You're practically a married couple!"

"Hush, Lydia!" Jane cried. "Anyways, what are you doing here? I can't imagine you have a trustworthy chaperone."

"Actually, I do," she said triumphantly, pointing to a muscular young man who was flicking through tabloids.

"And who exactly is that?"

"My boyfriend, André. He plays rugby," she giggled.

"And he's definitely too old to be consorting with a fifteen-year old."

"Trust me, this was _my_ choice. I'm simply too mature for guys my age, and plus, older guys are hot." She turned away. "Anyways, we're done here. He's taking me to watch his game, so I'll see you lovebirds later!"

"I need to tell Lizzie about this," Jane muttered.

"Such a lovely sister you have," Bingley said in thinly-veiled shock. "So... bold!"

"You could put it like that."

At last they left the supermarket with all the groceries crossed off and Jane was ready to head back home. As they stood outside the station, Charles offered a tenative grin. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon. Remember, _Pemberley's_ is open seven days a week."

"Of course. How could I let down my favorite barista?" she said lightly, but his eyes widened as though he'd taken the words to heart. "Anyways, thank you again for the lunch and for your help."

"It was no problem, really."

"Seriously, Charles," she said, gently touching his arm. "It would have taken me forever to do everything."

"U–Uh, you're welcome. I'll, uh, see you later then," he replied, nodding and awkwardly shuffling back along the sidewalk.

 _Poor guy,_ Jane thought. _He's probably worried about Mr. Darcy's impending reaction to his tardiness; though, I doubt William would hurt a fly. I'll call him later and ask what happened._

The iciness soon penetrated her warm layers and she took brief respite inside the station before finally getting on the train home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I wasn't actually expecting people would enjoy this story! It's my first time really writing something multi-chapter so I know there are some things off with it probably like the shorter chapter lengths and such. I will try to update frequently to compensate for this, but I am actually quite busy with schoolwork currently so it might be hard for these first few chapters! But with patience I'm sure it will eventually go more smoothly and I will try to make the chapters quality! Thank you guys so much for reading this fic! :)


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh my God,” Lizzy huffed. “That’s the reason she couldn’t help me out with the bookshop?”

Jane nodded solemnly. She’d just been informing her sister of the teenager’s choice to hang out with one of her many boy toys.

“Well, that just pisses me off. Immensely.” She angrily chucked a cherry into her mouth, eyes darkening. “I mean, of all things!”

“Let’s try to be sympathetic,” Jane began, sheepish. “Lydia’s young. She doesn’t know any better.”

“‘Doesn’t know any better?’ Jane, please stop being so nice for once. She is precocious, immature, and— and…”

“And she can learn from her mistakes!”

“Oh, really? I wonder how long I’ll have to wait for that to happen,” she laughed bitterly. "I'll be wrinkly and decrepit."

The older sister frowned and squeezed Lizzy’s shoulder, passing her eyes from her red face to the ceiling. “You know, I think can agree with you this time,” she said slowly, pulling herself from her musings.

“Woah, really?”

“Yeah. Now that I think about it, she completely embarrassed me yesterday! Charles and I were at the supermarket and she just popped out of nowhere. Now he knows I’ve never had a boyfriend before and she called us _lovebirds_ ,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m ruined.”

“No you’re not,” said Lizzy. It was her turn to take on the role of the sympathizer. “I’m sure he doesn’t care. If anything, he’ll probably think it’s cute.”

Jane looked up cautiously. “You think?”

“I _know_ ,” she said, giving a conspiratorial wink. The two girls couldn’t resist the laughs bubbling up in their chests and they fell into a fit, gasping for air. 

 

* * *

 

André was several years older than his girlfriend. He had a stocky build— like a great deal of rugby players— that made Lydia swoon anytime he decided to wear a fitted tank, and he wore the kind of smarmy grin that looks charming at first but sooner or later rubs off as cocky and irritating. The teenager didn't care, though; she tried to kiss him any chance she got and had developed a new hobby out of running her fingers through his knotted curls. The disturbing thing was that nobody acknowledged that the age difference between them was criminal; her friends had responded with a chorus of "oohs" and "ahs" when they learned she was dating an older guy, and his mates just wanted a piece of it too. 

"Come here," he grinned that morning, scooping her up and spinning around as they stood in a vacant lot. A few larks flitted by. "You're a beauty."

She giggled into his chest. "And you're hot."

He could hardly ignore the low temptation burgeoning in his stomach, letting it seep in as he felt her weight against him. He would never bring himself to do it, though. It was just _wrong_. Instead, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and set her down, feeling disgusted with himself. "Hey, Lydia, I need to tell you something."

It had been just three months since they'd begun secretly meeting up, and from the beginning he knew it would fizzle out. He'd been charmed by her vivacious energy and infectious smiles, but through his attraction to her he realized that he was messed up for lusting a girl five years younger than him, and he wanted it to come to an end. Not just for himself, but also for her. She needed to grow up dating boys her own age. "What is it?" she asked, eyes gleaming.

"This needs to stop," he sighed gruffly and rubbed his nose. "This thing we have, I mean."

"What?" she laughed, clasping onto his arm. "Stop teasing, André. You're everything I need, and I'm everything you want."

"Well," he began, cutting off as she cast him an arch glance. 

"Come on. Let's do it. I know you want to."

"You're too young," he muttered. 

Chuckling, "What, come on! It's been three months already, why are you saying that now? We haven't even had sex!"

"Are you stupid?"

She flinched. "André..."

He gently brushed off her hand. "I've gotta go."

Now smoldering, the teenager whipped around. "Fine, you loser," she huffed. "I hope I never see you again!" Her tone was laced with venom, but also quivered a bit.

He waved nonchalantly and slowly started to walk away. Lydia stared after him, petulant tears forming in her eyes.  _What an arse,_ she thought, then, suddenly realizing how cold it was, turned and ran toward the train station. She was heartbroken, for the first time in her life.

 

* * *

 

"Lizzy, Jane, Lydia's home," cried Mary in the general direction of the living room. She had been told to alert them if she saw her since her cell phone apparently wasn't getting any calls. 

Lizzy set her clipboard down with a clatter and stormed into the foyer, seeing the teenager hanging up her dripping outerwear. Her head was turned. "Where have you been, Lydia?"

"Out," she murmured.

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Don't be short with me," Lizzy said, cheeks reddening. "You've just been shrugging your responsibilities because you're having too much fun with a boy, aren't you?"

"What?"

"God, you're acting now? Planning on going into show biz?"

"I'm tired," she said, finally revealing a flushed and tear-stained face. "I'm going to my room."

Elizabeth was suddenly struck with worry. "Wait, what happened? Did you get hurt?"

"Yes."

"Come talk to your bigger sisters about it. It might actually help some." Her voice had lost some of its resentment and she gave a genuine smile, feeling bad about how harsh she'd been. It was a bad habit she needed to get rid of.

"Nah."

"Come on."

"Fine," she sighed.

The three of them nestled onto the couch, pulling a fuzzy blanket over their legs. "Want some?" Jane asked, offering Lydia some popcorn from the ceramic bowl that had been sitting on the table.

"No thanks."

"Okay, now tell us what happened."

And so she told her story, omitting the part where she'd tried to seduce André because she knew Lizzy would kill her. As she spoke she felt her heart shove off some of that weight, and the warmth of the home and her sisters' words allowed her to regain some joy. She nuzzled the blanket to her face. "Thanks for listening to me," she smiled. "I feel a lot better." She looked at Lizzy, feeling guilt stab at her. "Oh, and sorry for flaking yesterday at the shop. I won't do it again. At least, I'll _try_ not to."

"Well," the brunette responded, "I just hope you've learned your lesson and won't go running around with paedophiles anymore. Or any random man, period."

Lydia nodded and averted her gaze. 

"Now, then. Sherlock's on, and I haven't watched in _forever_ ," she grinned, switching on the telly. "Sister night?"

Jane nodded excitedly and called the remaining siblings. "Sister night everyone! Come gather in the parlor!"

The sound of footsteps clamoring down the stairs sounded and Kitty appeared, tucking her head into the room. "Is there food?"

Lizzy laughed. "Yes, there will be food. Where's Mary?" 

The reclusive daughter slowly shuffled in, clutching a novel to her chest. "This is just to let you know that I am only coming because Sherlock is a show for intellectuals like myself who have the ability to discern the most subtle, nuanced details and because I am not simple-minded enough to enjoy the whimsies of chick flicks and romantic titles."

"Just get on the damn couch already, it's starting!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! My first semester of senior year is slowly coming to close so I can finally allow myself more time to work on this fan fiction; plus, since it's December, writing the wintery scenes really gets me in the mood for Christmas and joy and all that good stuff! I hope you all enjoy, and sorry for the long delay; I've been so busy!
> 
> – Isabella


	5. Chapter 5

A fresh dusting of snow had settled atop _Bennet Books_ and the surrounding buildings, doors of which were being slammed open at frightening rates by crowds of people desperate to get their holiday shopping over with. The crisp air was burdened by the sounds of conversation and fuss, drunk old men stumbling out of open bars and venting their frustrations loudly; children squealed as they saw the big tree in the middle of the square brimming with multicolored lights and fanciful decorations, and their mothers had to restrain them from jumping into piles of mud-stained snow.

Inside, the small bookshop had been furnished with its own little tree hung with various ornaments. A pleasant warmth permeated the store, welcoming those who sought refuge from the outside chill; Mr. Bennet had insisted upon installing a fireplace (a very inconvenient choice for a bookshop, but still appreciated nonetheless). Vibrant rugs strewn across the floor in sundry patchwork designs gave the store character, as well as the aging oak bookshelves having fairy lights strung along them. Mary enjoyed keeping one section of a front shelf for her own recommendations, which she switched out regularly with new titles. Unfortunately, no visitor really cared much for this.

“I almost forgot how cozy this place is,” grinned Wickham as he stepped in for the second time. He was to be appointed as the newest bookseller, and Lizzy had to run through the basics of the position with him. “Such a change from the monstrosity that is our weather.”

“Hey, welcome,” she said, smiling back. She gave a little tug at her pendant and brought her hair to one side. “How have you been?”

“Alright, I suppose,” he shrugged. “Been trying to wrap up– no pun intended– the last of my gift scavenger hunt. The holidays actually kind of are a pain when you have loads of family members.”

“I can relate.” She understood painfully well the struggle of living with several siblings, three of whom struck a nerve within her, alongside her presumptuous mother.

“How’s it like with you?”

“I’ve got four sisters.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, I guess we should get started,” Lizzy said, getting off the stool. “A tour is the first thing on our list.”

He peeled off his overcoat and looked up apologetically. “Sorry, is there anywhere I could put this? I’m already sweating.”

She took the garment and propped it on a hook in the corner. “No problem.”

It didn’t take very long at all to learn the setup of the shop; the front was for checking customers out, and the rest was devoted to books. For the most part everything was organized by genre and author, though there were some books stacked haphazardly in corners that seemed to have no relation to each other. A few plush seats dotted the cramped aisles for visitors to take a seat and just read. “Basically, if you enjoy reading, you’ll do great here,” Lizzy recapitulated as they arrived again at the counter. “And I’m sure you do.”

“Yes, of course,” Wickham laughed. “I wouldn’t surround myself with books otherwise.”

She pursed her lips, asking impulsively, “Would you like to grab some coffee with me since it’s still early?”

His eyes widened. “Well, that was sudden— not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Yes, it is. Where’re we going?”

Her first thought, for some reason, was _Pemberley’s_ , but she immediately dashed the thought from her head. _No, no. That would be weird._ Lizzy had been to pretty much all the coffee shops in town, but somehow still found herself grappling for a name— maybe _Java Joint? The Busy Bean?_ Yes, she’d go with that one. She hadn’t been in a while and she quite liked the people who worked there. “Right. It’s not too far from here.”

“Alright, Miss Elizabeth,” Wickham smiled, plucking his anorak off the hanger. “Shall we be on our jolly way?”

“Just let me put on my coat as well,” she said, struggling to pull on the sleeves, but he took it from her and gently helped her slide into it, his fingers resting on her shoulders. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“It’s nothing.”

* * *

“God, you’re joking, right?” Lizzy’s eyes were full of tears thanks to Wickham’s laugh-inducing story of how an old girlfriend had drunkenly mistaken him for his look-alike cousin, who she’d been cheating on him with. “That’s bloody awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, that night was the first night I'd ever drunk so much beer,” he sighed. “I was utterly wasted.”

“Sounds fun,” she snorted. “Turning into a true English lad.”

He picked up his coffee cup and downed the remains, afterwards placing it down with a clatter. “Now, tell me one of your stories.”

She scoured the back of her mind for an entertaining anecdote; there were simply too many. She could bring up her mother— yes, talking about her or Lydia’s follies would bring no end to the conversation— or that time in secondary school when she’d flipped out at a boy for accidentally touching her hair. _Is that even funny, though?_ “Nothing’s really coming up.”

“How disappointing.”

“Actually— and this isn’t exactly a 'funny' story or anything— there’s this new coffee shop in town, and I chanced to meet the owner. Never have I met someone more horrid in my life.” She recalled that man’s backhanded attempt at an apology for his rudeness, and her own fake smile before she’d departed. A new scowl found its way on her face.

“Dear, it seems he’s made quite the impression on you,” Wickham chuckled as he watched the transformation.

“You’re not wrong,” she groaned. “It honestly shocks me how some people can be so rude to others they don’t even know.”

“Even in the most refined societies there are those who have not learned the importance of traits like politeness and modesty.”

“My mother would do herself some good to hear you say that.”

“It’s unfortunate, but alas, ‘tis the truth. I must say at one point I used to be just the same. Rude, selfish, untiring.”

She patted his hand sympathetically. “Yes, at one point all of us were like that. It’s just that some of us never grow out of it.”

“Thank God I learned my lesson,” he said, shifting his gaze away and drumming his fingers on the table. “If you don’t mind, could we discuss something else?”

“No, no, of course I don’t,” she smiled, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly formed. _You’re the one who brought it up!_ “Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t ask you this. What did you study?”

He grimaced. “Ah, in university? I, uh, did Philosophy, but I’m planning on becoming a football player so it probably doesn’t matter anyways.”

“Didn’t like it much?” she asked, noticing his discomfort.

“Not really. I don’t think I was made for academics. But it’s alright, I guess. How about you?”

“I majored in journalism. It’s my dream to become a big-name journalist, though I already do some freelancing on the side.”

“Good luck,” Wickham said, offering a tentative grin. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“And you too,” she responded.

* * *

They returned to the bookshop, just in time for opening. Elizabeth turned over the sign on the door and scanned the interior once more to make sure nothing was out of place. “Ready for your first day, Mr. Wickham?”

He moved closer to her and fixed her with gentle eyes. “It’s just George, Elizabeth. And I’m not sure about the answer to that question,” he joked.

“Just don’t try too hard to charm every single customer,” Lizzy said. “They’ll get distracted and forget to buy anything.”

“I don’t have to _try_ to charm anyone. Everyone loves me. Well, maybe excepting that woman who kept calling us ‘tossers.’”

She let out a laugh and twirled behind the counter just as the bell notified them of a visitor. “You’ll have to try for me, then. My heart seems to be acute with a burning hatred.”

After greeting the man, Wickham came over and placed his elbows on the the table, playfully resting his head on a hand. “What should I say first to charm you? You have way too many good traits; it would take years to fashion romantic lines for all of them.”

“Nice one, but that’s not going to work.”

A whole flurry of people suddenly entered the shop, cheeks and noses red from the cold. Wickham turned his smug attention to the crowd and went over to help an elderly lady find what she was looking for. As he disappeared into an aisle, Lizzy busied herself with tidying up the checkout area, ducking down to pick up loose pieces of change she hadn’t seen before. “Excuse me,” said a voice.

“Yes, just a second,” she said, opening the cash register and replacing the coins. “How may I help…”

When she looked up, she saw Darcy standing before her with a blank expression. He had a thick scarf wrapped around his neck, and his hands were shoved into his coat pockets.

“Oh, it’s you.” Her eyes passed over him once and flicked to the air for a split second. “Are you looking for anything in particular today, sir?”

“Actually, I just came to enquire about—”

“Elizabeth, there are children currently engaged in a fist fight over a picture book and I have no idea what I’m doing,” said Wickham in mock-agony as he bounded to the register. “I didn’t know this job was going to be so confusing.”

She laughed and glanced at the commotion. “That’s not our job, it’s their parents’.”

Darcy’s face had gone pale when he noticed the man standing by Elizabeth. After taking another look recognition flashed across Wickham’s features as well, and he took a half-step back. “Goodbye, then,” said Darcy, promptly leaving as quickly as he had come. The doorbell jingled in response.

Lizzy furrowed an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say he and I... have some history.”

“Oh?”

“Not _that_ kind of history. It’s complicated.”

“If you’re talking about William Darcy, my sentiments toward him are about as positive as yours must be. Fill me in.”

“Wait,” he began. “Is Will the coffee shop guy you were talking about?”

She gave a nod. “Mhm.”

People were entering the store rapidly. “I’ll tell you about it later. I don’t think now’s such a great time.”

He disappeared again and she hurriedly checked a few waiting customers out, sliding their books into the new holiday-themed bags; they were printed with images of a Christmas tree adorned with novels. A new graphic designer was urgently needed.

* * *

The clock on the wall indicated that it was time to close shop. The sky was dark, leaving only the fairy lights and lamp posts for illumination. Wickham stretched his arms; a yawn escaped his lips. “Geez, I’m tired.”

“Sorry, George. Usually on the weekends we have shifts with Mary and my father coming in to work, but today it was just impossible since Mary was at school and my dad’s been recovering from a cold.”

“No, it’s all good,” he said, giving a tired smile. “It gives me something to do. My life has little structure.”

He and Elizabeth retreated to the backroom, taking a seat on the small couch after boiling some water for their tea. Chamomile and honey. Books and paper were stacked all around them, and the small fireplace seeped warmth straight into their veins. “As you can see,” said Lizzy, “my father takes comfort as an utmost priority.”

“I could fall asleep right now,” Wickham grinned.

“So, you were going to tell me about your prior relationship with Darcy?”

“All you need to know is the guy’s an asshole. Though, I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured that out.”

“Come on, I long to know more.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Back in secondary school is when I first met him. We were good friends at first; you know, typical lads wanting to have a good time. We did everything together, and I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s true.”

Lizzy nodded and took a sip from her tea.

“But he and I were from vastly different backgrounds. He’s rich, you know. His whole family’s been rich forever. Mine is working class. Once he got into a good university he started making a big show out of his wealth, parading around with girls glued to him and spitting insults anytime he saw me. ‘Poor George.’ The only reason he attended Harvard was because he was up to his neck in money.”

“Christ…Harvard? Why couldn’t he have just gone to Oxford or something?”

“And now he owns a coffee shop? Why on Earth would you graduate from one of the most prestigious universities in the _world_ only to run a random indie coffee shop?” He frowned, looked down at his shoes. “It's a complete waste, if you ask me.”

“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said. “Now I definitely have no intention of being nice to him next time I see him.”

“My pleasure.”

They talked for a little while more about Darcy and their mutual dislike of him, gradually switching into more positive topics like their plans for the new year and so forth. The both of them were in a good mood, spirits eased by the mellow tea and fire. Elizabeth shamelessly kept stealing looks at her interlocutor's face, which seemed to have no blemish whatsoever; he had a straight nose bridge and pleasantly full lips that wrapped effortless around each word he spoke; his blue eyes were sharp, ringed with soft dark lashes, and the cut of his jawline boasted strong angles. The dimples that formed when he smiled and the rich tenor of his voice did little to avert the growing attraction Lizzy was feeling for this man.

Wickham stood up. “I think I should get going now. It’s almost eight.”

“Thank you for the help today. It was invaluable.”

“My pleasure. You’re a joy to talk to, Miss Bennet,” he remarked.

She flushed and stood watching him by the door as he shrugged on his coat. Snow was coming down fast. “Are you going to be at the annual Meryton Christmas Party?”

“If I am, I haven’t got an invite yet.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “But if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Goodnight, George.”

“Goodnight, Elizabeth. May you have a safe night,” he beamed. “And thank you for the coffee. Let’s do that again sometime.”


	6. Chapter 6

Lydia and Kitty were tearing the house apart with their excited screams and exclamations. The party was in just a day’s time, and they simply could not wait; evidently it hadn’t taken Lydia long to get over her heartbreak regarding André, indicating that she hadn’t truly cared about him as much as she thought she had. That was probably for the better, anyways.

That afternoon they’d come barging into the house with dress bags drooping from their arms; their mother was irritably following them around, checking her own complexion in her hand mirror every two minutes, for she feared the microneedling session she’d just attended had ruined her skin. She’d insisted on having the elder sisters get pampered as well in lieu of the big party, but Mary was not the type for that kind of thing and Jane and Elizabeth preferred getting ready together with their own little spa treatments. “They’re all going nuts again,” Mary sighed as she observed the three stumbling over each other.

“What else should we expect from the golden trio?” Lizzy said, echoing the nom de plume she’d affectionately coined.

The annual Christmas party was perhaps one of the more popular events in Hertfordshire society circles; held at the modest yet charming Meryton Reception Hall, folks from all over town would gather for a night of festivities and gaiety, enjoying treats like peppermint hot cocoa and, of course, a great chocolate fountain. Gossip would be passed around like the flu— Mrs. Bennet was particularly interested in such conversation— and new, handsome faces would make cameos, which of course was temptation to the younger of the Bennet siblings. Even the older sisters couldn’t curb their excitement for the big event; something about the holiday cheer tended to snatch their hearts. And now for the both of them existed certain men who they found diverting in many respects; the possibility of seeing them in formal wear was a most thrilling prospect.

Their mother, as usual, had written a lengthy to-do list enumerating the many tasks that were to be completed in preparation for the party. The daughters would carry these out while Mrs. Bennet busied herself with painting her toenails. “Okay, so first up is ordering a cake,” Jane said, eyeing the paper scrap. She and Elizabeth were bundled up and trudging along Main Street; the wind whipped savagely at their hair and clothes. Lucas Bakery was coming up on their right, and they cut their way across, stepping into the snug shop.

“Welcome,” said Charlotte brightly, her smile only widening when she recognized her visitors. “How have the both of you been?”

“We’re doing great,” Lizzy responded. She pulled her friend into a hug with Jane following suit. “How about yourself?”

“Same old, same old,” she sighed. “Shop’s been busy as usual for the holiday season, and my parents aren’t around much to help, so there’s that.”

“Aw, Lottie…”

“But on the plus side, I have more time to myself. It’s pleasant.”

“Wish I could relate.”

“Didn’t you say you’ll be moving out after New Year’s?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve finally saved up some good money, so I think Jane and I will be splitting costs to get an apartment.”

“That’s exciting,” Charlotte grinned. “No more Lydia, huh?”

“No more Lydia,” she nodded. “I feel like I’m going to miss it sometimes, though.” She’d grown so accustomed to the vibrancy of her home life; although she often found herself irritated, at times she feared she was taking it all for granted.

“Well, no need to worry about that now. I’m guessing you guys are here about the Christmas party?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “Mum’s keen on getting a Yule log this year.”

“Oh, fun. Anything special she wants on it? ”

“She didn’t specify, so whatever you want to do is fine, I suppose.”

“Sweet. It should be ready in about two hours,” Charlotte said, scrawling something down in her notepad. “Does that sound good?”

“Thank you so much,” said Jane warmly. “We might be a little late since we have so much stuff to do, but yes; we really appreciate it.”

“It’s really nothing, Jane.” She smiled and waved as the two of them made their way out. “See you later!”

* * *

Back at home, Mary was polishing her piano skills with a piece from _La traviata_. Parties were among the few chances she had to showcase her talents. Rolling her eyes when Lydia let out another inevitable squeal, she resumed her choppy playing, trying to lose herself in the music.

It was one of the few consolations she had, the piano. Her sisters already had everything— Lydia and Kitty, with their fashion and bubbly personalities that could charm any guy not worth knowing, Jane with her sweetness and downright gorgeous looks, and Lizzy, who was witty and pleasant and pretty. Mary always seemed to be left out of the fun; she was labeled as “boring—” “pedantic.” She had to work twice as hard just to get some attention, and even when she finally did, it tended to be negative. _I’m human too,_ she thought morosely while her fingers pressed the keys. _Why am I treated like this?_

“Mary, please stop playing that shit. It sounds awful, and you know it,” Kitty groaned as she came down in her full party attire. A flashy sequin dress hung from her frame and her lips were stained a bright red.

“Why don’t you go back upstairs and play with your makeup some more? I’m trying to do something that’s actually valuable.”

“I’d take you seriously if you didn’t suck so bad,” she laughed. “God, when will you learn?” The teen ambled toward the kitchen with a lazy smile painted on her face.

“At least I’m not a slut,” she hissed to herself.

Kitty snapped her head around. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me what you said, you conniving bitch.”

She sighed. “ _S-l-u-t._ You’re a slut, Catherine Bennet.”

“Is that supposed to set me off?”

“You asked me to tell you what I said, so, not particularly.”

“Hey, you wanna know something? You wanna know how to get attention for once in your entire miserable life?”

“How?”

“Maybe by trying to understand that caring about how you look and talking to boys doesn’t mean you’re a 'slut', but that you’re a normal fucking human. And even if it did mean that, I’d rather be a slut than waste away in my own misery and self-hatred like you.”

Mary watched, boiling, as Kitty walked off, her hips swinging carelessly.

* * *

Four hours later, Jane and Elizabeth had finished with the rest of the to-do list and were on their way back to the bakery to pick up the cake. Most of the wind had stilled, making for a more pleasant walk, but the chill was still ever-present. Previously empty hands were now burdened by the weight of groceries and cosmetics all bagged in paper. They were both cold and tired and just wanted to get home.

“Here you go, my loves,” Charlotte said, handing Jane the cake box. She opened it to take a look, eyes sparkling.

“It looks amazing!”

“What can I say? Baking is one of my specialties,” she chuckled. “I’d make a good housewife.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes upon hearing this admission. “Lottie? Don’t tell me you’re—”

“No, I have no plans to become a housewife, Lizzy,” Charlotte replied, amused. “It was a passing comment.”

“I was about to say; I cannot imagine _you_ as a housewife. You’re too… what’s the word? Driven? Ambitious?”

The women exchanged their money and goodbyes, Charlotte promising to see the sisters at the party, and them again thanking her for the dessert. The nasty cold became their companion as they made their way back up to the train stop, which was sparse of people. “I’m so sleepy,” Elizabeth mumbled. “It better get here soon.”

* * *

The final job of the day was to prepare the Christmas cookies. The Meryton folk always adored the Bennets’ cookies; it was their trademark, so to speak, and also allowed for one of the few times when the whole family would get together and promise not to hate each other for more than five minutes. Mr. Bennet had escaped from his confining jail cell (more commonly known as the study) to prepare the materials; the oven was heating up and the cookie cutters, dough, icing, and candy that the sisters had purchased were lying neatly on the countertop. Meanwhile, his wife was sat at the dining table, ready to test the products out, one eye glued to her Facebook feed; she had recently posted a selfie and was desperate for some validation.

The cookie-making process went swimmingly— even with Mary and Kitty keeping their distance— and the cookies themselves came out even more fantastic. Every single one was unique, the tray becoming a vivid mélange of Christmas trees and poinsettias and snowmen. Jane had created one that looked suspiciously like Bingley, and Lydia and Lizzy teased her about this, but she'd ardently insisted that it was just a red-headed gingerbread man.

The warm laughter and smiles that filled the house that night proved a much more enjoyable alternative to the fracas that so often plagued it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape and assault are mentioned casually near the beginning of this chapter as a warning to Lydia (there is no in-depth description of these acts, just the terms are referred to).

Morning light seeped through the windowpanes. A delightful quiet suffused the early morning hours, broken only by birdsong and the occasional rush of wind. Jane roused herself, momentarily blinded by the brightness that flooded her pastel–themed room, and sleepily threw off the comforter, stretching her toes so they touched the floor. Her phone, sat on her bedside table, was buzzing intermittently. _Hm?_ she wondered, grasping for the device and scrolling through the home screen messages.

**Charles Bingley:**

_hi jane :-) how r u lol_

                      2:34 AM

_omg i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to send that hope i didnt wake u up! :-(_

_Umm sweet dreams then lol!_

                      2:35 AM

_Btw just wondering r u going to the party still bc i dont know if i should go unless like_

_Unless ur there bc i just moved here nd i dont know anyone lmao_

                      5:00 AM

_Hey r u awake now lol_

_If u are i hope u had good slep x_

_sleep*_

_happy Christmas eve_

                      6:15 AM

_And let me know if ur going to teh party_

_Ok_

                      8:19 AM

_Btw im bringing will_

_He usually hates parties but he wants to go to this one_

_So im confused_

                      8:20 AM

 

She let out a chuckle and quickly typed out a response, praying he wasn't away from his phone.

**Jane Bennet:**

_Hey! Sorry for the late response, but I was asleep! (Maybe you should consider getting some sleep as well!)_

_I am still planning on going to the party, so I'm excited to see you there tonight._

_And William hates parties? What a shame! Hopefully tonight's will change his stubborn mind._

8:25 AM

 

His reply was almost instant.

**Charles Bingley:**

_Alright_ _Jane! great to know! see you later :-0_

8:25 AM

                                                

A brief smile passed across her face and with greater enthusiasm she shrugged off the vestiges of sleep. The kitchen sounded with footsteps. "Jane, what tea would you like this morning?" Lizzy asked as the eldest sister shifted out of her room to begin her morning routine.

"Um, peppermint sounds good right about now," she offered.

"Good choice, good choice." 

The water was set to boil and Elizabeth took a seat at the table, flipping through a poetry book she'd bought a while ago but which she hadn't gotten around to reading until now. The style was reminiscent of Russian literature, and yet the author was American— an odd find. Nevertheless she became absorbed in the text and entered a dreamlike state with obscure sestinas and sonnets pulsing through her mind. The sound of the kettle became white noise. She swore she would have forgotten about the whole tea thing if Lydia hadn't come prancing in that minute with all the gleam of silly youth in her features. She hummed and span about the room, diverted undoubtedly by imaginations of an attractive stranger, her fingers practically dancing as they reached up to grab a bowl for her cereal. "Morning, my dear sister," she chirped.

"Good morning, Lydia. You're looking rather jubilant today."

"Duh; do you know how I long I’ve waited for this party? I’m starved. André’s was the only freaking party I went to this whole _year_.”

“You went to a party with a guy who’s five years older than you?”

She realized her fatal mistake too late. “Um, no, definitely not. I meant to say Lily’s. You know Lily, right? My best friend at school? That was a crazy party.”

“I really do hope,” said Elizabeth, looking up from her book with a frown, “that you weren’t lying when you indicated to me that you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I wasn’t, I swear.”

“Do you know what happens to girls at those kinds of parties? They can get drugged, assaulted, raped. Guys are big assholes, especially college guys. I don’t want to see something like that happen to one of my sisters.”

“I’m not that naïve,” she replied. “Why does everyone think I’m stupid? They teach this stuff at school, you know. I’m sick of hearing it over and over again.”

“You’re not naïve? Liddy, just last week you were sobbing because he broke it off with you.”

“Ugh, please don’t bring that up again.” She rolled her eyes, seemingly sick of the conversation, and grabbed her cereal bowl to go back upstairs. “You’re killing my vibe.”

The kettle was ready so Elizabeth poured the hot water into the teapot and dropped in a couple of tea bags. She checked the clock; it was almost nine. She had to start preparing for the day ahead.

 

* * *

 

The calm splendor of that morning quickly evaporated and was replaced with a hectic cacophony of noise. “Hurry up and get prepared, my children. The party starts in just three hours and we must be there _at least_ an hour early!” Mrs. Bennet yelled down the stairs with a fistful of ringlets in her hands. “And you, my lousy husband, need to get a move on. Where on Earth is your shirt? I cannot stand the sight of that flabby stomach!”

Mr. Bennet sighed and rose from his work. “Is this really necessary my love? You do this every godforsaken year…”

Meanwhile, the sisters were perfecting their hair and makeup. “Kitty, did you take my eyeliner?” asked Lydia. She swung into the room and eyed her sister with suspicion. “You know, the new one I bought with my own money?”

The small, black bottle was abruptly tossed back at her. “There.”

“Jeez, give me a warning at least.” The girl left, leaving Kitty to her own devices. Her phone was blaring an Arctic Monkeys song and she couldn’t stop herself from singing along. _You leave the other stories standing with your renditions and jokes, bet there’s hundreds of blokes that have wept…_

“Um, Kitty?”

“What?” she asked in exasperation. _What does it take to be left alone for a bit in this house?_ She put down her eyeshadow brush and turned around.

Mary stood awkwardly in the doorway. She was wearing a modest party attire and her hair was pinned back in an austere yet elegant bun that drew attention to the slightly unbalanced proportions of her face. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday. Though I initially made my disagreement with your way of thought painstakingly clear, I have reconsidered my sentiments, and, well…”

“I have to get ready, Mary. Make it snappy.”

“Would you be willing to do my makeup for me?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No,” she exhaled, red from embarrassment. “I was being serious.”

Catherine Bennet had never been so shocked in her life. “Mary! Mary wants a makeover!” she exclaimed to herself. After finally resolving her confusion she slowly gestured for the sister to come sit at the vanity. “This might be my most ambitious project yet.”

 

* * *

 

“Is everyone ready?” boomed the household matriarch in an anguished voice. “Everybody better be ready by now!” She dabbed at her forehead with a spare handkerchief, eyes violently darting about.

“Please do calm yourself, mum,” Jane tittered. “We still have plenty of time.”

She and Elizabeth were wearing dresses with a similar cut; they looked polished, but not over-the-top elegant or dignified. Elizabeth wore a classic little black dress while Jane’s dress was a festal, crimson color. Because of the simplicity of their outfits, the hair and makeup they had opted for was slightly more glamorous, all shimmery eyeshadows and deep lip tones; Lizzy’s hair was curled to perfection, and Jane had hers in a crown plait. “I think we did a good job,” said Elizabeth, grinning at her sister.

“I think we did, too.”

Mary was the last to come downstairs. Needless to say, everyone was astonished when they saw that she was donning a full face of makeup. “Mary… is that you?” asked Mr. Bennet; he narrowed his eyes to make sure he was seeing right.

“Yes, it’s me, father.” She attempted a smile; it was clear she felt uncomfortable. “Kitty did my makeup.”

“You look great,” beamed Lydia. “You should do that more often, Kitty.”

“We don’t have _time_ for small talk, children! Let us get going!” Mrs. Bennet pleaded. She was a wreck. It took about fifteen minutes longer until they were all out the door with their effusive chatterings and laughs.

 

* * *

 

Despite the fact that they’d arrived early, already a few families and couples had shown up, milling about the hall to mingle. The setup of the place was simple as usual; Merytoners hated the stuffiness of formal events and preferred to keep things casual so everyone could enjoy themselves without going into throes over inadvertently spilling a drink. Vases of poinsettias garnished each table; wreaths hung across the wall and Christmas lights threaded their way along the room. It was all very festive.

“Lizzy! There you are,” said Charlotte, pulling her friend into a warm embrace when she was found hanging by the front entrance.

“Hey,” she replied. “Long time no see, huh?”

They took a seat at an empty table and eased into one of their regular conversations about life and literature. However, Charlotte became aware that her companion was uncharacteristically restless, craning her neck in search of something, or someone. “What’s the matter?” she queried while following her gaze.

“Charlotte, do you happen to know anyone named George Wickham?”

“I haven’t heard the name, no. Who is he?”

Elizabeth pursed her lips, wondering whether or not it would be wise to confide. “Let’s just say I think I finally have a crush on someone.”

“No way!”

“It’s true.”

“What does he look like? Is he like a Brad Pitt kind of guy or more androgynous? I’ve always been into androgynous looking guys,” she mused.

“He’s attractive in every way imaginable,” Lizzy breathed. “Not to sound like a rake, but he’s got this Adonis–esque body and his face must have been sculpted by the gods themselves. Don’t even get me started on that voice of his.”

“Woof! I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

The minutes ticked by, and it was starting to look like her hopes wouldn’t be fulfilled. The hall by then was much more crowded; guests had been showing up in flocks just a bit after the start time. She let the absence of Wickham’s presence slip from her mind and gathered Jane and Charlotte to dance with her; some holiday song remix was pulsing through the speakers. The three of them laughed and swerved to the beats, knowing they looked insane but not giving a damn. “I’ve missed this,” Charlotte exclaimed breathlessly when they finally pulled away from the throng to rest. “The holiday cheer, the dancing, the people.”

“Oh my goodness,” Jane suddenly yelped, clapping a hand to her mouth. She was looking at her phone with apprehension.

“What happened?”

She didn’t say anything and hurriedly fled to the bathroom, heels clacking loudly against the tile. Elizabeth furrowed an eyebrow. “That was cryptic.”

“It sure was. I’m going to go grab a drink, Lizzy. I’ll be right back,” Charlotte smiled after pushing in her seat.

“Have fun.” She sighed and pulled a small novel out of her bedazzled handbag. Taking books wherever she went was an absolute must; she never knew when a moment of profound boredom or loneliness would strike and finding solace in words was the only thing that could alleviate such painful moments. The vibrant lights had washed the surroundings in flashes of greens and reds, making it hard to focus, so Elizabeth set it on the table and instead turned her head to the dancefloor to get a good laugh.

“Ms. Bennet.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be Wickham? The voice was deep, rich. She was paralyzed. _Please be George, please be George, please be George._ As soon as she’d gathered up the courage to look behind her, her anxious expression dulled into one of disappointment. “Hello, Mr. Darcy,” she nodded politely, shaking his outstretched hand. Standing behind him were Charles, Caroline, and another pair of people she hadn’t seen before, their faces lofty and unwavering. It took her a few moments to realize that the music had stopped and that everyone was looking expectantly at the new arrivals.

Charles was next to shake her hand, and he did so with vigor. “Hey, Elizabeth! It’s good to see you. Have you seen Jane, by any chance?”

Just as he finished his statement the person in question returned from her spontaneous trip. Lizzy noticed that she’d applied a fresh layer of lipstick and inwardly smirked. _I see what you did there._ “Hi, Charles,” she said timidly, taking a few shaky steps toward him.

The grin plastered on his face grew impossibly wider. “Jane! Heavens. You look…”

She tried not to look nervous as she waited for the rest of his comment.

“You look nice.”

A little breath escaped her lips, but she quickly covered it up. “You do too.”

“By the way, Jane, Elizabeth, I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Louisa, and her husband, Mr. Hurst.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Mrs. Hurst said, giving a stiff smile and linking hands. The husband merely threw them a nod and they both left, evidently looking for something better to do with their time.

“Greetings,” Caroline spoke briefly, running a critical eye along their outfits. “Haven’t I seen you before?” she asked Elizabeth.

The Bennet immediately recalled the events that had transpired at the coffee shop and attempted to muffle a laugh. “Yes, I think you were my barista at _Pemberley’s._ ”

She shot daggers at Elizabeth, glancing at Darcy, who was busy glowering at guests in a sullen corner of the room. “That’s interesting. I don’t know anything about coffee so maybe I got your face wrong or something. And you are?”

 _Damn,_ she thought bemusedly as Caroline fixed her attention on Jane, adapting that same saccharine smile once again. The change in mood was jarring. “I’m her sister,” Jane beamed. “Charles has told me much about you.”

“Oh, are you _that_ Jane? My brother was mentioning your name this morning, but I sincerely didn’t know who he was talking about, so it’s nice to finally get a face to go along with it. You look stunning. Come talk to me, I’m terribly bored,” she pleaded, entreating the blonde to follow her.

“Is she an actress or something?” Elizabeth asked Bingley. He shrugged and went after the twosome.

The music, thankfully, had resumed, once more dousing the hall in its original convivial atmosphere. “Who was that hottie who you were just talking with?” Charlotte said, walking back with a glass of champagne in hand.

“The redhead?”

“No, the tall, dark, and handsome one. I might be wrong, but I think we saw him at that coffee shop.”

“Oh, you must be talking about William.” She peered over at him again, keen on trying to discern what her friend found handsome about him. His dark eyes betrayed the brutish truth of his character; his lips seemed permanently drawn into a straight line that made obvious his dissatisfaction. The only compliment she could think up regarded his hands, which she found elegant and well–proportioned. “Yeah, I don’t see it.”

“Maybe I should go chat with him,” she said slyly.

“No, you’ll definitely regret it. I mean, do you see him right now?” She gestured over to where he was brooding. “He looks miserable.”

“And who is that man dancing with our Jane?”

Sure enough, Bingley and Jane were enjoying each other’s company on the dance floor. They looked silly and adorable at the same time, Bingley actively observing the floor to avoid stepping on his partner’s toes and Jane unable to unfasten the grin from her face. Their cheeks were flushed and they looked like they were having the time of their lives. “That’s Charles Bingley. I think there’s a little something blossoming between them, if you ask me.”

“That’s obvious enough.”

 

* * *

 

“Will, why the hell aren’t you dancing? This music is great. They just played a party remix of Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy! I didn’t even know that was a thing,” gushed Charles. “These people know how to have a good time.”

“On the contrary I find this music bizarre and find the lack of formality appalling. Glad to see you’re having a good time though,” he responded, taking in his friend’s radiance. He was practically glowing.

“You really need to get out more. There are so many pretty birds here.” Shifting his gaze, “Well, one girl is clearly superior to the rest, but anyways.”

“You’ve already stolen the prettiest one. I’m just going to enjoy being antisocial over here.”

“What are you talking about?” Bingley was bewildered. “What about Elizabeth? She’s pretty. You were asking me about her a few weeks ago, too. And didn’t you visit her at her family’s bookstore or something?” 

“Please, Charles. She’s just average, and I was only curious. There’s no way I’d be attracted to someone like that.”

“You’re mad,” said Bingley. “Utterly mad. I’m going to go have a drink.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Maybe you should consider getting one too,” he spoke while trudging away, face twisted in annoyance. “To loosen up a bit, you pompous fuck!”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe he said that,” Elizabeth seethed. “‘Someone like that.’ That bastard.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Charlotte consoled her.

“If he’s going to talk shit, he should at least realize that standing that close to us would let me overhear every trash comment that spills from his mouth. Let’s go dance again, Lottie.”

“I would love to, but I find myself too tired. Feel free to go on ahead without me, though.”

She decided to get some refreshments instead; the table was layered with a wide assortment of cheeses and fruits. Unfortunately, Darcy had gotten there before her, and he was quizzically analyzing the options like he’d never seen a supermarket cheese plate in his life. She would have laughed if she didn’t feel so spiteful toward him at that moment and tried to make herself inconspicuous.

“Hello,” he said. Her worst nightmare had become reality.  

“Hello.”

“I saw that book you were reading.”

She began pouring herself some cider. “What about it?”

“I’ve been considering buying it. What is your opinion on it so far?”

Elizabeth took a long, slow sip of the drink, watching him fumble with the snacks. The words she uttered next tasted delicious on her tongue. “To be frank, Mr. Darcy, If I were you I wouldn't waste my money on it. It’s _just average_.”

She wore he nearly snapped his neck when he turned to look at her. She relished that look of surprise that had claimed his face as she ambled away, a new boldness in her movements.  _Highlight of my night._

 

* * *

 

It was past midnight when the Bennets arrived back home. The father carried a swaying wife up to the bathroom to wash up. “Tha–that was fun,” she hiccuped. “Janey! I hope that man is loaded.” Even in a drunken stupor, her most fundamental trait had not been forgotten.

“So how did it go?” Lizzy asked of Jane. The both of them were strewn across Jane’s bed, dressed in cozy pyjamas and faces wiped clean of cosmetics. On the television was a cheesy Hallmark movie— one of their guilty pleasures.

“Oh, it went wonderful. Charles was so sweet, he always is. He’s such a good dancer.” A dreamy aura stole her features as she reminisced on the night’s events. “I like him a lot.”

A sudden ping from Jane’s phone interrupted the silence. “Who’s that?” said her sister, but she already knew the answer.

“It’s from Charles!” Her fingers worked deftly to type in the passcode. Lizzy pounced forward to look at the message.

 

**Charles Bingley:**

_i had a really great time tonight, jane. you’re a lovely person. I hope_

_you and your family have a wonderful christmas, and dearly hoping i see you_

_again soon. sweetest dreams._

12:30 AM

 

“Sweetest dreams, you lovely person,” Elizabeth teased. “Hoping I see you again soon.”

“Oh my gosh! Stop it!”

“Never,” she grinned devilishly.

After sending a warm reply, they nestled under the covers and switched off the television. From the window, they could see snow spiraling ardently in the makings of a blizzard; the neighbors' lights gleamed through the darkness of night. Elizabeth gazed at the glow-in-the-dark stars pasted to the ceiling, smiling to herself as fond memories of their childhood resurfaced. "Merry Christmas, Jane."

"Merry Christmas, Lizzy."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, anyone who's reading this!


End file.
